


there's a heartbeat pulse that keeps on pumping

by laminy



Series: a sight of a light at the end of a tunnel [2]
Category: 6 Underground (2019)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laminy/pseuds/laminy
Summary: "One, please! Help me!"As the yacht sinks and the plan falls apart around them, Seven is forced to listen on the radio as Four is beaten by Rovach's guards, and can only hope that One manages to find him in time.
Relationships: Four | Billy/Seven | Blaine (6 Underground)
Series: a sight of a light at the end of a tunnel [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590112
Comments: 31
Kudos: 232





	there's a heartbeat pulse that keeps on pumping

_“One, please!”_

Seven freezes on the boat, wavers a bit on his feet as the water rocks them.

_“Help me!”_

He’s going to be sick. He has no idea where Billy is, and isn’t sure if anyone else does either. He hasn’t seen him in ages. And now he’s alone somewhere, dying. He blinks a couple times, swallowing hard, trying to compose himself. Losing control right now will not help anyone. “What’s your 20?” he asks, crouching down. “Anybody got eyes on the target?” He says target, but he thinks what he really means is Billy. _Please_ let someone say they know where he is.

“I don’t know my 20,” One snaps. “Stay off the channel. I’m going for Four.” 

There’s a millisecond of hope, that One may actually know where Billy is, but then—

“Four, where you at, buddy?”

Seven just bites down on the inside of his lip, and then swallows. “You’re breaking your own rules,” he says, loading another magazine into his gun. “I thought you didn’t have a family.” He gets up, and starts moving across the boat. It’s not that he doesn’t trust One to find Billy, he has just as good a chance at it as Seven does, but he can’t _not_ look. He can’t leave him. He steps through the doorway, glancing right, and then left, immediately firing. He fires twice more, moving steadily across the deck.

For a moment, Seven doesn’t hear anything except the rush of blood in his head, and then he thinks he recognizes the faint sound of a motor. Rovach escaping on a lifeboat, if he had to guess. He knows that he should be chasing after them, putting a bullet in him. But then, over the radio, cutting across the sound of the motor, he hears a sudden snap, and then a loud scream.

“It’s a big ship, say something, pal.” One’s starting to sound a bit hopeless, which is the worst thing Seven can imagine right now. It means One still hasn’t caught sight of Billy yet, he’s still looking— it’s a big boat, Billy could be anywhere. Where the fuck is he?

_“He’s gonna kill me.”_

It’s not the desperation in Billy’s voice that makes Seven’s stomach twist, it’s just the pure fear. He's afraid. He’s not going to make it, and he knows it. He can’t even pretend to hide it. Seven’s going to have to listen to Billy die.

_“Look, Bond, you gotta get here fast.”_

Seven glances around, not seeing anyone else. He stops, trying to think. He just needs a goddamn second to think. This is wrong, he knows, it’s not part of his training. He’s supposed to keep moving, he can’t find Billy if he doesn’t keep moving but he just doesn’t understand where the fuck he is, and why hasn't One found him yet? He shakes his head and forces himself to take another step, and another, turning a corner.

“Oh, thank god,” Three says, appearing in front of him, eyes wild, gun raised. “I thought I was about to fucking die.”

“You’d be fine,” Seven says. “Where are they?”

Three shrugs. They both look up when they hear the helicopter, watching it circle the sinking yacht. “We gotta go,” Three says, clapping Seven on the back a couple times.

“Where’s One?” Seven asks again, and Three just shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” he says, “but now.” But there’s something in Three’s voice, like pity. They start running, skidding a bit on the wet deck, and then Two comes darting out of a doorway, gun in her hand.

Seven hates the way his stomach twists at the way they look at each other. He shouldn’t be thinking like that; they’re still on a mission, and if they don’t get Rovach then this whole fucking thing was for nothing. All of it. Innocent people died on the streets today, rebelling. Murat put his life on the line, and there's no way Rovach won't make him pay for it. Even if he can’t get to Billy, Seven owes it to everyone else to make sure the rest of this night goes according to plan. They can fix this. And so they keep moving, rounding another corner.

“Well, hi-de-ho, neighborinos,” One says, looking at them. “Where the fuck were you?” He narrows his eyes, looking around. “Where the fuck is Five?”

“Coming,” she says, running up behind the rest of the group.

“Okay, great,” One says, “we need to move. Now. Fucking now, let’s go.” He turns, and Three and Two hurry after him.

Seven finally gets the chance to actually look at Billy. He swallows hard when he sees the awkward way his arm is cradled to his chest, and Seven knows that it’s from the snap he heard, that scream. “Are you okay?” he asks, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder.

“We need to go,” Billy says, and he steps aside as Five rushes by him, proving his point.

“You’re hurt,” Seven says.

“Yeah,” Billy says, nodding quickly, breathing heavily. His eyes are wide, pupils enlarged. He’s clearly in shock, and Seven knows he needs help, not just for his arm, but to get him calm before he gets sick or passes out. 

“Okay,” Seven says, and he takes hold of Billy’s good arm, following after the rest of them, carefully leading him towards the helicopter. 

“Is he okay?” Five asks, a bit breathless, looking over at the two of them.

Billy just nods dumbly, mouth hanging open bit, and Seven makes a bit of a face, like _no, not really_.

“ _Now_!” One yells at them from where he’s already in the helicopter, looking down, watching Three quickly climbing up the ladder.

“Billy,” Seven says softly, and Billy blinks a couple times, turning to look at him. “You need to get up that ladder,” he says. 

“Ye— yeah,” Billy nods, “I can.”

“With one arm,” Seven says.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Billy looks up, watching Three reaching out, helping Two climb into the helicopter, then looking back down to watch Five start to climb up as well. He reaches out, grabbing onto the ladder with his left hand. 

“Shit,” Seven says softly. Billy's right-handed. “Okay,” he says. He looks up, seeing that Five is almost at the top, and then he rests his hand on Billy’s lower back. “You need to go, okay? Don’t push yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Billy insists, but he’s pale, and bleeding, and Seven’s scared to death of what happens when Billy’s on the ladder, still too far away from the safety of the helicopter, and high enough up that falling is _really_ going to hurt. Seven’s sure he must be dizzy; there’s no way Billy _doesn’t_ have a concussion, and he’s going to be swaying up there with no support.

“Billy,” Seven says, desperation edging into his voice, “please. Just take your time.”

Billy looks at Seven, looks like he’s about to tell him off, but then he just nods jerkily. “Okay,” he says. 

Seven nods, and steps back a bit, keeping his hand on Billy’s lower back, watching as he takes the first step up, and then the second. Then his heart starts pounding when he watches the way Billy has to completely let go of the ladder with his left hand to reach up to grab a higher rung, so for a second, Billy’s not holding onto anything at all. Seven shifts his gun in his arms, and positions himself so that if Billy falls, maybe Seven can at least break it. It feels like he doesn’t breathe until he watches Three and Two reach over the side, pulling Billy into the helicopter, and then he immediately starts climbing, as quickly as he can, leaving the sinking yacht behind. The seat beside One is empty, and he takes it, looking over at Billy, who’s sat beside Two, and has Five looking over him, helping him out of his wetsuit and into a grey t-shirt, so at least there’s less pressure on his ribs. Three looks like he’s in pretty rough shape himself, but Seven thinks that Billy got the worst of it.

He fucking hates Rovach.

It takes all he has in him to not just shoot him in the head as soon as he climbs into the helicopter, but he’s glad he doesn’t. It’s a lot sweeter to watch One just shove him out the door while he begs for mercy.

There's a silence, as they all realize the magnitude of what's just happened, and then Billy blinks a few times and reaches out to Seven with a shaky hand. There’s nothing subtle about it, and everyone notices. Seven might care, except he’s a little more concerned about Billy then immediately passing out, slumping over onto Two, his hand slipping from Seven’s.

“Shit,” Five says, getting on her knees in front of him. “We need to land somewhere, we can’t just keep—” She groans in frustration, looking around for a first-aid kit.

Two helps lift Billy up, getting him off her, and then he groans softly, eyes opening.

“My chest,” he mutters, reaching up to his ribs.

“And your fucking arm,” Five says. “He needs help.”

“So give it to him!” One says. “We’re on the way back to the plane now, that’s all we can do!”

Seven swallows hard and then gets up, kneeling on the floor in front of Billy as well, looking up at him. “Can you hear me?” he asks.

Billy blinks a couple times, nodding. “Yeah,” he says.

“Somebody get the kid some water or something,” Three says. “Jesus Christ.”

Seven looks around frantically; he doesn't have any on him, but he sighs in relief when he looks back, watching Five offer Billy a bottle of water. Seven just watches as he struggles to take small sips, some of it running down his chin. 

“I’m fine,” Billy says, pushing the bottle away, “I’m fine.”

“Take deep breaths,” Five says.

“It hurts,” Billy mutters.

“I know, that’s the point.” She looks back over at One. “He really shouldn’t be sitting up like this, and I still need to take care of his arm—”

One sighs, rubbing his face. “Yes, I know,” he says. “And we are almost there, I don’t know how you think I’m going to get us there any quicker.”

Seven swallows hard, resting his hand on Billy’s knee, looking up at him. 

“I’m fine,” Billy says.

“Are you lying?” Seven asks.

Billy shakes his head. “No,” he says softly.

Seven looks over at Five. “He shouldn’t be moving, right? We should be— he should be in a bed, or something, not flying—”

“We have to keep moving,” Billy says, and Seven shakes his head.

“We can hide out here for a couple days,” he says. “We’re safe, with Murat.”

“Nobody is hiding out anywhere!” One exclaims. “Not here! None of us can stay here, we need to leave immediately.”

“People will be looking for us,” Billy says.

Seven knows this. Realistically, it’s not safe for them to stay in Turgistan, and they certainly can never come back. But… “I think your ribs are broken,” he says.

Billy smiles faintly. “And they’ll still be broken when we’re somewhere safe.”

“You know, this is sweet and all,” One says, “and I do really hate to break it up—”

“Man, would you just shut the hell up?” Seven snaps. “He almost _died_ , so give him a break—”

“Yeah, I know he almost died,” One says, “and he’d be fucking dead if it weren’t for me, so—”

“Oh, really?” Seven asks. “So you think that he owes you something now? Because the last time I fucking checked, I saved his life _twice_ while you were telling me not to, so without me, he’d be dead _because_ of you—”

“Oh my god,” Two mutters, shaking her head. “Please save me from this bullshit. Fucking idiotic men fighting over—”

“Oh hey,” One says, suddenly and sarcastically, “look where we are. The _plane_.”

That shuts everyone up, and Seven gets back into his seat, still watching Billy as the helicopter lands in the desert. One is out first, quickly, like he’s done with them, which is fucking fine with him. Seven waits for the rest of them to get out and then stands up, stepping in front of Billy. “You need help?” he asks.

Billy tries pushing himself up, bracing himself against the seat with his hand, his right arm still folded against his chest. He grunts and groans with the pain, but he doesn’t ask for help, and Seven just lets him keep his pride, ready to steady Billy if necessary. But finally Billy gets to his feet, head hanging forward as he takes a couple breaths. “I wouldn’t mind some fucking pain meds,” Billy says, and Seven nods, patting him on the back a couple times.

“We’ll get them on the plane,” he says. He climbs out of the helicopter, and then reaches up, helping Billy down to the ground as well. He stays a couple feet away from him, not wanting to crowd him, or come off too desperate, as they walk towards the plane.

“Oh look,” One says, glancing back at them. “A plane! Where the fuck did this—”

“You’re a real ass sometimes,” Five says, pushing by him.

“Only sometimes?” Three mutters, and Seven smiles.

They all get on board, and after getting her medical supplies, Five is immediately at Billy’s side. 

“I’m fine,” Billy says, but he happily accepts the water and pain medication she gives him, before she starts on his arm. Seven sits down in the seat across from him, watching Five check him for breaks, before putting his arm in a sling. Then she starts adjusting his seat— he can’t be sitting all the way up, or laying all the way back, they need to keep as much pressure off his ribs as possible.

“Stop fussing,” Billy says, trying to wave her away.

“Does it feel alright?” Five asks.

“Give me a couple more pills and I’ll be alright,” Billy says, giving Seven a wink.

“Maybe you should try sleeping,” Seven says, shifting in his seat, looking out the window.

Billy scoffs. “And you’re just gonna sit there and stare at me for the entire flight?” he asks, giving Seven a cheeky smile.

“Shut up,” Seven mutters, and Billy laughs, until he groans in pain.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Billy says, shifting against his chair. “I will try to sleep,” he says. Seven waits for him to continue. “If you do.” Seven opens his mouth to speak, but Billy just lifts a hand, shaking his head. “You need it just as much as I do.”

“I’m not—”

“Blaine,” Billy says softly, and Seven sighs, because apparently Billy has now figured out exactly how to get him to do what he asks. 

“Okay,” he says, and he settles back in his seat. He watches Billy for as long as he can, his eyelids feeling heavy. He tries to at least stay awake until he sees Billy drift off, but he’s not sure he makes it that long. He doesn’t even wake up when they land. Instead, he wakes up to the feeling of Billy stretching out in his seat, his foot moving up the inside of Seven’s leg. It’s just at Seven’s inner thigh when he finally jerks awake, and Billy laughs.

Seven rubs at his face, looking around. He frowns out the window, because he has _no_ idea where they are, but also, he couldn’t have been asleep for _that_ long. There’s no way they’re back in the US.

“I’ve got a place,” Billy says. “One set it up, you know. After he found me.”

“Where are we?” Seven asks. He knows the UK would be too obvious, but that is, of course, where Billy would blend in best.

“Croatia,” Billy says, and Seven sighs, slumping forward a bit.

“Why the fuck are we in Croatia?” Seven asks. “Do you speak Croatian?”

Billy shrugs. “Not really, no. But I’m working on it.” He looks at Seven. “We couldn’t go to any city we’d been in before. I’ve been to a lot of cities." He pauses for a moment. "Been arrested in a lot of them too.”

“Oh my god,” Seven mutters. “We— Croatia.”

“Yeah,” Billy says. “They speak pretty good English in Zagreb, if that helps.”

Seven blows out a heavy breath. He looks at Billy, propped up against a couple small pillows, a blanket tucked up around his waist. He's got ugly bruises blooming all over him, probably a little doped up on painkillers, wearing a loose smile, pieces of hair curling over his forehead. “Goddammit,” Seven says, and they both know that Billy’s won.

\+ + + + +

Seven glances around as Billy unlocks the door to the building, and then he reaches out, holding it open for him, since Billy's struggling enough with his bag. It doesn’t look like much from the outside— well, it doesn’t look bad either, just…unremarkable. Nondescript. Which, Seven assumes, is the point. The building’s sort of a beige stonework, and there’s graffiti along the bottom. They walk up a flight of stairs, and then Billy unlocks the apartment door, and Seven is shocked. Like _really_ taken aback.

“Holy fuck,” he says softly, looking around.

“Ain’t bad, is it?” Billy says. He drops his bag to the floor, and then kicks at his sneakers until they come off, because he can’t reach down to untie them.

“How much does it cost?” Seven asks. The floor is a pretty grey wood, that compliments the wall colour nicely. There’s a skylight right in front of him, and a balcony too. The entire thing looks like it was styled out of a magazine, with wood beams on the ceiling, and an exposed brick accent wall. There’s no way Billy decorated this place.

“I don’t know,” Billy says. “One takes care of it.”

“Jesus,” Seven mutters.

Billy looks over at him. “You’ll get one too,” he says, and then he looks away, walking into the kitchen. He opens the refrigerator, muttering to himself about how they’ll actually have to go out if they want to eat; it’s been awhile since he’s been here, so it’s pretty bare now except a few things to drink. “Or I’ve got like, soup and shit,” he says, looking over his shoulder at Seven. “Stuff in the cupboards. We can order takeaway, there’s a pub just down the street. I don’t know if we’re in hiding, though. Are we? I don’t know.” He goes back to the refrigerator, as if something has magically appeared in there in the last few seconds. “I’m bloody starving,” he murmurs.

“Billy?” Seven asks, taking a step forward, and Billy glances back at him, closing the door. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” Billy nods, “I’m fine.”

“Right,” Seven says, “and you said that, so are you like— actually fine, or. You know.” He takes another step towards him. “It’s okay, now, right? We’re done. One’s gone. Just us.”

Billy looks at him for a few moments, just blinking. “Uh, tired, maybe. Yeah. Could sleep for a week.” He groans a bit, looking down at his chest. “Fucking…need a shower too, probably.” He sniffs at his shirt, then looks up at Seven with a bit of a face.

“Billy,” Seven says, and he takes another few steps forward, halving the distance between them. He can just about reach out and touch him now. “It’s over,” he says. “We can take a minute to breathe, you know?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

Billy just stares at him again, then he slumps back a bit against the refrigerator. “So what if I am?” he asks finally, voice soft.

Seven sighs, giving him a sympathetic smile, and then finally reaches out. He catches onto Billy’s hand, the one not in a sling, and gently twists their fingers together. “Were you scared?” he asks.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Billy says, but he keeps his hand in Seven’s. 

Seven swallows hard, and then takes another step. He’s worried that he’s crowding him too much, that he’s about to set off some fight-or-flight response in Billy that’s going to make him punch him in the face and then run, but Billy just takes a deep breath, letting his head fall forward onto Seven’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” Seven says softly, running his hand up and down Billy’s back.

Billy nods, rubbing his cheek against Seven’s shirt, closing his eyes.

“You got a shower around here?” Seven asks, glancing around the apartment. “Maybe a bed?”

“That’s a line if I ever heard one,” Billy mutters, and Seven laughs softly.

“Man, I don’t need a line,” Seven says, and Billy lifts his head up, narrowing his eyes at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Billy asks, and Seven laughs again.

“Means you’re already into me,” Seven says. “Lines are for people who have to _try_.”

Billy snorts, pulling back, but Seven’s hand moves to Billy’s lower back, pulling him in, keeping him close. “What makes you think I’m into you?” Billy asks, and Seven scoffs.

“I don’t know,” he says, “I’ve got eyes. Ears.”

“Shut up,” Billy says, looking away. He’s embarrassed, cheeks red. It’s a cute look on him. “Let me go,” he says, “I need a shower.”

“Okay,” Seven says, and he steps back. Billy looks at him, frowning. “What?” Seven asks.

“N— nothing,” Billy says, shaking his head. “I just…didn’t think you’d listen.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Seven says. “Do you mind if I clean up real quick first? Just gotta—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Billy says. “I’ll uh, you go ahead. It’s through there,” he says, pointing to an open door in the corner.

“Okay,” Seven says. He walks over, realizing that it’s Billy’s bedroom, and then he frowns, but heads in anyway. The bathroom is off the bedroom, and he steps in, closing the door behind him. He quickly uses the toilet and washes his hands, and then rinses his face as well. He sighs heavily, looking at himself in the mirror before finally drying off, opening the door. He’s surprised to see Billy there, standing at his dresser, fumbling one-handed with his clothes. “I got this,” Seven says. “If you need to put things away.”

“No, I was looking for something clean,” Billy says. 

“Just go shower,” Seven says. “I can find you something.”

Billy swallows hard, and then nods jerkily. “Why are you—”

“Because I care,” Seven says. “Go shower.”

Billy takes a couple steps towards the bathroom, keeping his eyes on Seven. “We haven’t even— yet.”

Seven looks at Billy, giving him a smile. “Yeah, we’ve been a little busy,” he says.

“We could,” Billy says, and his eyes automatically flick towards the bed. “Now, I mean. I’m—”

“Holy shit,” Seven says, “I thought you meant— we haven’t even _kissed_ yet, dude, we’re not going to fuck right now. Your ribs are broken, your arm is—”

“I thought that’s why you were here!” Billy exclaims.

“I’m here because I want to be, not because I want— I mean, I _do_ want,” Seven says, shaking his head, “but we literally _just_ walked out of a war zone. Can we at least— Jesus Christ, Billy.” Seven rubs his eyes, sighing. “Please, just go shower.” Billy doesn’t say anything, but he listens, heading into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Seven sighs, starting to pace around the room. He takes a couple minutes of just internally freaking out, because Billy has apparently invited him to _Croatia_ (and then it hits Seven all of a sudden that they never actually talked about him getting off the plane with Billy, it was obviously just a thing that everybody assumed was going to happen) just to sleep with him. Or thought that it was the only reason that Seven would want to come with him.

Seven groans, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, shaking his head. He’s also listening to the sounds of the shower, so that if Billy calls out for him or groans in pain, he can go offer his help. Seven sighs, then stands back up, going to Billy’s dresser. He doesn’t dig around in it too much, just finds him some comfy clothes to wear, and lays them out on Billy’s bed. He heads back out into the living room, grabbing his own bag, taking out some clean clothes as well. He starts looking around the apartment— there’s absolutely nothing personal in there. That’s how Seven knows Billy didn’t decorate it; he _really_ doesn’t think Billy would choose a generic painting of a field of sunflowers during sunset to hang up in his living room.

But hey, who knows, maybe Billy really likes cheesy art. He doesn't know him well enough yet to say any different. Seven double checks the locks on the doors, and then he walks over to the balcony doors, unlocking them and taking a step out. It’s a nice street; he can see a couple restaurants and clubs in either direction if he looks. There’s a blue tram stopped just outside the building, letting people off. Over the tops of the building across the street, he can see trees, maybe a park of some kind.

Seven’s still standing there, clothes in his hands, just taking in the fresh air, and the idea of— of Billy, honestly, of being in his home, being with him, when he hears the creak of the floor behind him. He turns, and swallows hard. He’s a bit conflicted with where he should be looking; just, in general, seeing Billy shirtless, wet, with a towel wrapped around his waist is…nice. But he can’t appreciate the bigger picture, because he can’t stop staring at the dark bruises mottling his skin, the awkward way his arm is cradled to his chest.

“You need…” Seven trails off, shaking his head slowly. “Jesus, Billy, how are you still standing?”

“Oh, this?” Billy asks, looking down at his chest. “I’ve looked worse.”

“Jesus,” Seven mutters, “that’s…not good, Billy.” He shakes his head again. “I put some clothes out for you. I gotta put your arm back in a sling. Just— okay. Go get dressed, I’ll— just tell me when you’re ready.”

“Are you going to shower too?” Billy asks. “There’s enough towels.”

“Ye— yeah,” Seven says, “I should.” He turns, locking the balcony doors again. 

“Okay,” Billy says. “I— I’ll stay up. Wait for you.”

Seven nods, and moves to walk by him, but then Billy’s hand slips into his, pulling him close. “Billy,” he says.

Billy swallows, eyes flicking down to look at Seven’s mouth, then back up at his eyes. “Just…” 

“Billy,” Seven says again.

“I’m fine,” Billy says, “I want to.” He moves in a bit closer, and then looks up at Seven, seeing if he’ll move away or not, but he doesn’t. Billy swallows, and his eyes drift closed as he leans in, lips just gently brushing over Seven’s. He pulls back again, like he’s expecting Seven to say something.

But he doesn’t. He just meets Billy’s eyes, to see if it’s really alright, and then kisses him again. Billy’s fingers squeeze at his, and then Seven reaches up with his other hand, cupping Billy’s face, guiding him into the kiss as he gently licks at Billy’s mouth. Billy makes a quiet noise, his mouth opening under Seven’s, and then they both groan, Billy settling against him, the warmth from Billy radiating through Seven's shirt.

Seven pulls back, ducking his head to press a couple soft, slow kisses to Billy’s neck, and then just takes a deep breath. “I’m going to shower,” he says softly, and Billy nods.

They walk into the bedroom together, and Billy finally lets go of his hand, and Seven turns, smiling faintly at him. He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t. He just watches for a moment, as Billy looks over the clothes that Seven grabbed for him, and then he takes off his towel, starting to dry off.

When he realizes he's still standing there, Billy looks up, and then he slowly smiles. “Pervert,” he says, and Seven grins.

“Don’t break your other arm trying to get dressed,” he says. “I’ll help you out when I’m done, if you need it.”

Billy looks back down at the clothes, and then nods. “Alright,” he says. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Seven says, walking into the bathroom. 

The hot water beating down on his skin feels fucking amazing, and he’d be in there for an hour, he thinks, if he didn’t have Billy out there waiting for him. At one point, he thinks he hears a noise over the water, and he freezes, not even breathing, as he tries to listen for it again. All he can think is _Rovach, Rovach, Rovach_ , somehow he’s managed to crawl out of hell and made it to Zagreb and found—

“Sorry!” Billy shouts over the shower. “Just needed to grab some mouthwash!”

Seven lets out a shaky breath, nodding. He finishes up quickly after that, turning off the water. He grabs a towel and dries off. Not enough, though, his chest is still wet when he walks back out into the bedroom, so he doesn't bother with his shirt, wearing just a pair of sweatpants.

Billy’s sitting on the bed, also wearing just sweats, though the shorter kind that he likes to run around in. His sling is on his lap, and he looks up at Seven, giving him a smile. “Tried it, hurt, thought you’d yell at me if I didn’t wait.”

“You’re right about that,” Seven says. He walks over, standing in front of Billy, reaching down to grab the sling. He carefully touches him, grip gentle as he eases his arm through the material, then moves the strap over his head. “That feel okay?” he asks.

Billy nods. “It’s gonna be a pain in the arse to sleep next to me,” he says. “I’ve got extra pillows.” He nods towards the closet.

Seven walks over, opening the door. He grabs a couple and tosses them onto the bed, helping Billy stand, then pulling back the covers. “Which side you want?” he asks.

“Closer to the door,” Billy says, and Seven nods. He gets it: easier to run.

Seven grabs the pillows and stacks them up a bit against the headboard, then Billy sits down, bringing his feet up. “Just lay back,” Seven says, guiding him back against the pillows. “Lemme…” He adjusts them a bit, so that Billy’s propped up, no pressure on his ribs. “Take a couple deep breaths for me,” he says, and Billy does. “You good?” he asks.

Billy nods. “Yeah,” he says. 

“Alright.” Seven walks over to the bedroom door, checking the lock, and then he walks around to the other side of the bed, climbing in. He adjusts his pillows as well, though either way it feels a bit odd to be sleeping with Billy so much higher up than he is. He tugs at the blankets, trying to get them both comfortable, and then he finally puts his head down, settling in against the mattress. “You good?” he asks again, and Billy nods, groaning softly.

“Tired,” he says quietly, and Seven smiles.

“Yeah, I bet,” he says, and he shifts a bit closer to him, realizing that putting Billy closer to the door means that Seven’s sleeping next to his good arm. He presses a kiss to his bicep, and then looks up at Billy, who’s smiling down at him.

“I thought I wouldn’t get saved this time,” Billy says, and Seven loses his smile. 

“I was scared too,” he admits, and Billy nods a couple times.

“Never thought it’d be fucking _One_ who got there first,” he says, and Seven can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, well, fuck him,” Seven says, stretching out a bit. “But I’m glad he got there.”

Billy yawns, stretching out a bit as well, groaning in pain for a moment before he settles back down against the pillows. He reaches out with his left hand, finding Seven’s, slipping their fingers together. “It’s because I’m lucky,” he says.

Seven nods, and brings their hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to Billy’s. “You are,” he says.

“Don’t go,” Billy says, so softly that Seven almost misses it.

“No way,” he says, “I’m gonna be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise,” Billy says, gently squeezing Seven’s fingers, so Seven squeezes right back.

“I promise,” he says, and Billy smiles faintly, and then finally let his eyes close. “Promise,” Seven says again, swallowing hard. He can’t imagine being anywhere else right now. And after everything they’ve done, everything that’s happened, he thinks they finally just deserve some fucking peace and quiet.

\+ + + + +

Seven takes a deep breath, and groans softly as he snuggles a bit deeper into the blankets. He knows how much he needed the sleep; he has no idea how long he was out for or what time it is, and now the bed is so comfortable and warm that he doesn’t want to get up at all. He could stay here for a few more hours. He murmurs a couple quiet noises, and stretches his arm out under the sheets. _Shit_. He jerks a bit, quickly pushing himself up. “Billy?” he asks, looking around. He climbs off the bed, walking over to the bathroom, ducking his head in, frowning a bit. He walks over and opens the bedroom door, realizing that it’s not locked. His stomach twists; he knows it’s fine, the odds are that Billy’s just in the living room, watching TV but he can’t— what if—

The living room is empty, and Seven’s stomach sinks. He feels nauseous, and he looks around, as if there’s a place that Billy could be somewhere hiding in a one-bedroom apartment. There’s not. He’s not here. He’s gone. He left Seven behind, in an apartment he doesn’t have the keys to, in a city he’s never been to and— _Jesus_ , Billy’s broken and bruised, where the hell has he gone? Why did he leave? Seven shakes his head a bit. Billy, who’s scared to death of being left alone has apparently just…left. Left him.

Probably scared that Seven would leave him instead, Billy decided to take the first step and just do it himself. Seven knows he has no claim to Billy, they’re not in a relationship, they barely even know each other. But this— it still hurts like a son of a bitch. Seven sighs, reaching up to rub at his face, and then he just shakes his head. “Fucking hell,” he mutters. He paces a bit around the living room, and then drops down onto the sofa. He sits there for a couple moments, and then something catches out of the corner of his eye. He turns, frowning, and then stands up. He walks over to the balcony doors, opening them, looking out.

“Morning,” Billy says, looking up at him. He’s sitting in one of the chairs, propped up with a couple pillows, one foot up on the balcony railing, with a hoodie covering his chest, but it’s clear that he couldn’t actually get it on without Seven’s help.

“Hi,” Seven says, swallowing hard, looking around. There is a tiny part of him that thinks they’re too exposed, they’re too out in the open; it wouldn’t even be a difficult shot for someone to make, they wouldn’t have to be a sniper. But he tries to push that down, and sits down in the other chair, looking at Billy. 

“Sleep well?” Billy asks, and Seven nods, rubbing at his face again. 

“You?”

“Yeah, it was alright,” Billy says, shifting in his chair. “You know, for all of this.” He gestures around his chest, and the bruises that Seven can see are a lot worse than they were before bed. “Starving, though.”

“I can run out,” Seven says, “grab us something.”

“Yeah?” Billy asks. Seven nods. “Thanks, mate.”

“Yeah,” Seven says. He stifles a yawn, and looks around. “There a McDonald’s around here?”

Billy grins, and nods. “Couple blocks that way, I think,” he says, gesturing towards the left.

Seven nods, resting back against the chair; it’s cold against the bare skin of his back, but he’s not going to go back in yet. This is nice. This is actually as nice as life as been in awhile, honestly. There’s a lot of shit he needs to figure out, first and foremost where the hell he’s going to get some actual clothes, because right now he just has his one bag with him, but…yeah. He’s got enough to throw on to run out and get them some McDonald’s, anyway. The rest can wait.

“Sorry I didn’t wake you,” Billy says. “Just wanted some fresh air, I guess. You know, near-death experiences, watching the sunrise, that type of bullshit.”

Seven smiles faintly. He’s missed the sunrise, but that’s alright, he can just catch tomorrow’s. He’s got plenty of time now, at least until One comes knocking on their door again. “I thought you left,” he says softly, half-embarrassed as he shifts in his seat, avoiding Billy’s eyes.

Billy shakes his head. “No,” he says, equally as soft. He reaches out, gently brushing his hand over Seven’s. “Wouldn’t.” And it’s as simple as that.

**Author's Note:**

> • so I thought my first Four/Seven story would just be a complete one-off, but way more people liked it than I ever expected!  
> • which I am very much on board with because I am still into that ship and think it's great, so I wrote this.  
> • and had to watch Billy get his ass kicked on that boat more times than I can count to get it right.  
> • maybe it's just a _bit_ too soft but goddammit those boys deserve a good thing to happen.  
> • I think we can expect at least one more part to this, because...well. A kiss is not enough, I say.  
> • thank you all who supported the first part, I hope you like this one!


End file.
